


To be Needed

by speedgriffon



Series: I Shall Taunt You a Second Time | Dragonborn Fiona Fics [13]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Outdoor Sex, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-07-30 19:46:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20102629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/speedgriffon/pseuds/speedgriffon
Summary: On the way to Mzinchaleft, Brynjolf discovers that Fiona does not take to being left alone in her bedroll very well.





	To be Needed

**Author's Note:**

> A tumblr prompt fill: "Come to bed" kisses

Brynjolf couldn’t say how long he’d been staring at the map of Mzinchaleft, carefully studying the rumors of an ancient Dwemer city that his contacts had dug up from the ruins. It was difficult to read them as carefully as he would’ve liked, the night sky completely pitch black with only a few stars dotting the horizon. Being so close to the Pale border didn’t help matters either, a soft sprinkling of dusty snow blanketing the area in a hazy glow. At least the fire pit was still going strong, the flames keeping him warm in the chilly outdoor air.

It hadn’t seem to have an effect on Fiona, not that the cold ever did. The lass had fallen asleep easily, tucked away in her bedroll, completely exhausted after a long day of traveling through the mountains. Brynjolf was glad to take the first watch so she could rest—even the Dragonborn had her limits.

They were on their way to investigate the Dwemer ruin themselves, hoping to discover a wealth of treasures and history within. It wasn’t that the Guild necessarily needed it—especially with Fiona as their Guildmaster. Their luck and fortune had increased tenfold since she took over from Mercer. But Fiona was adventurous by her own right, and wanted to explore Mzinchaleft, and wasn’t about to make the trip without her _second-in-command_. Brynjolf jumped at every opportunity to travel with Fiona, half worried there would come a time she would up and decide she had more pressing issues to attend to and leave the Guild and _him_ behind. It was an irrational belief, but an insecurity he had to manage considering the powerful woman she was. 

Brushing the thought aside he began to look at the maps again, smiling at the little scribbles Fiona had made in the margins to make their trip easier. Despite his focus on the parchment, he didn’t flinch as two hands slid around his middle, slowly making their way to rest across his chest beneath his cloak. He flicked his eyes up, wondering how he hadn’t noticed Fiona slipping from her bedroll to sneak up behind him where he sat on his own. Only she could creep up on him so easily. He breathed out as she leaned against him, and he reached up to place a free hand over the one she had on his chest. Her scent enveloped him as a few strands of her hair cascaded down across his shoulder—wildflowers, with the slightest trace of honey that reminded him of home.

“Still studying that map?” she asked, voice still thick with sleep. She pressed her body tighter to his back, chin resting on his shoulder. “Find anything interesting?”

Brynjolf strained to peer at her before looking back down at the parchment. “Not yet,” he answered. He loosely laced their hands at his chest. “Couldn’t sleep, lass?”

Fiona turned her head so her face was pressed against the curve of his neck, and she slowly rubbed her nose along the skin behind his ear, as if to shake her head. She repeated the movement, and he enjoyed the sensation, reveling in the simple and tender ways she could be. It only made him feel more foolish than before for thinking there could be a time in which she would abandon him—she had chosen to be with him, and time and time again her actions had spoken clearly that she wasn’t going anywhere. This was just another gentle reminder.

She placed a soft kiss to his neck, lips trailing upwards. “I could use some company in my bedroll…”

Of course, Fiona could also be quite the minx.

“And what would you have me do once I’m in your bedroll?” Brynjolf hummed, squeezing her hand as he teased her. “Sing you to sleep?” 

“Oh Gods no,” she scoffed, a smile forming against his skin as she kissed behind his ear before wrapping her lips around the lobe in a gentle tug. He groaned behind clenched teeth, stuck between loving and loathing the fact it was so easy for her to arouse him. He used to be a man in control of his baser desires, but that all went by the wayside when he met Fiona, more so when they finally made the commitment to be with one another. 

Her other hand idly rubbed at his waist, and he smirked when her fingers began picking at the buckles of his Guild armor. He shifted, turning in her embrace to make it easier for her to kiss up the column of his neck and down the line of jaw, softly giggling as the stubble of his beard tickled her lips. Brynjolf took the opportunity to glance down at her appearance, biting back another gruff sound when he saw she was in one of his shirts. The linen draped loosely off one shoulder, the tan color a contrast to her ivory-like skin. He could just barely peek the curve of her breasts through the unbound ties at the front, and with every breath the hardened tips of her nipples were visible, just aching to be touched.

He skimmed his gaze lower—she was wearing her stockings…and perhaps that was all. Brynjolf couldn’t resist the sigh of approval that fell from his lips at the idea. Both her hands were pulling at his leathers now, not so rushed that it seemed desperate, but it was obvious what her endgame was. His armor and _his_ shirt aside, Fiona reached for his boots next, yanking them off with a determined smile.

She settled across his lap, knees on either side of his thighs as her fingers raked through his hair. While she pressed a series of kisses to his face and neck, he ran his hands across her knees, catching the fabric of the shirt and disappearing beneath. He felt at the silky skin of her thighs, thumbs squeezing into her flesh any time she nipped at his ear. She scooted closer, moaning when she felt his hardened cock though his pants press against her.

Brynjolf kissed her exposed shoulder, trailing his tongue along the jut of her collarbone before focusing on his favored spot of the curve of her neck. All the while his hands continued to roam beneath her—_his_—shirt, one fondling at a breast while the other deftly ran circles across her clit. Fiona was writhing, and because Brynjolf was a man with an _ego_, he was delighted to know he was the one causing it.

Finally, he captured her lips in a heated kiss, the two seemingly slowing their movements to focus on that single action. Her hands framed his face, legs squeezing at his torso. Brynjolf removed his hands from beneath the shirt—wrapped one arm around her to hold her tight to his chest, the other hooking up to cradle the back of her head. They kissed until it was too difficult to breathe, Fiona breaking away first with a breathless sort of laugh.

“This isn’t my bedroll…” she trailed, eyeing the spot they were already in. “If it’s all the same to you…”

“Not worried about bandits or wildlife?” he asked, teasing her again with a shrug. It had been an impossibly quiet evening while he was on watch—there would be no harm in a quick romp (or two)—considering they were already well past halfway there. Perhaps even a short nap before continuing their travels north.

“We’ll just have to be quiet,” Fiona remarked in a similar tone, her palms cupping his cheeks as she guided him in for another kiss. 

“You, quiet?” he laughed against her mouth. “What a lark.”

She bit at his bottom lip. “Pants off,” she ordered. “Into the bedroll.”

She broke away from him, pushing him away as she stretched out across the thick padded bedroll they had been fooling around on already. He chuckled and shook his head at her, but still stood, watching as she undid the ties to make room for the two of them to _make use_ of the roll. With little decorum he removed his trousers, winking when he caught the way Fiona’s eyes glanced immediately down towards his erection.

Brynjolf ignored the chill of the air, knowing it would dissipate within the next few moments. He practically dove onto the bedroll, Fiona’s laughter melting into little moans as he peppered her face with kisses, all the while wrapping them up as tightly as he could in the furs of the bedroll. It took a moment to find a comfortable position but finally, with the two on their sides, her back to his chest and one leg angled forward, he gradually entered her.

It wasn’t as rushed as Brynjolf had thought it would be—it wasn’t like the two were _truly_ alone in the safe confines of her Honeyside estate with all the time in the world—and yet, he still felt the urge to draw out her pleasure. Fiona arched into every thrust, her head tilting back to rest against his as she struggled to quiet her moans. Brynjolf gripped her thigh tightly, sliding his hand to the crook of her knee to give himself greater purchase as he drove into her deeper, steadily increasing his speed. His other hand was beneath her shirt—in hindsight he should’ve removed it before they started, but he was still able to feel at her breasts, feel the way her chest strained with every gasping breath she took.

He sloppily kissed at her neck in an effort to muffle his own sounds of pleasure, smiling as Fiona whimpered out little curses to the Divines as her orgasm began to crash down upon her in waves. She pulsed around him—if they were anywhere else he could’ve fought through and brought her to fruition time and time again—but this was not the time. He met her, legs shaking as he spilled his end deep with her.

In a blissful haze they rearranged themselves within the tiny bedroll, Fiona finally discarding the shirt she had borrowed from him before snuggling close to his chest. Facing one another, she grinned with a sort of glow that made Brynjolf feel prideful. He reminded himself to stay humble. Instead of pillow-talk, she nestled her head against his shoulder, and tucked an arm around his waist, treading their legs together—she had left her stockings on. In the quiet her toes would wiggle against his, making him smile as he kissed her brow, but eventually, she stilled.

“Brynjolf,” she whispered, just when he thought she’d fallen asleep. “You’ll travel with me even when it’s not Guild business, right?”

Like it was a question that needed to be asked.

“Aye love,” he breathed against her ear, holding her tight against his chest. “To Sovngarde and back if needed.” 

**Author's Note:**

> kudos and comments are always appreciated


End file.
